


Lucky Missteps

by Rionaa



Series: Trade All My Tomorrows [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Because he's an adorable little shit, First Meeting, Panic Attack, Patrick helps out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4430951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rionaa/pseuds/Rionaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fall Out Boy would never have been formed if Patrick Stump hadn't stood on Pete Wentz on a busy day in Chicago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Patrick walked through the crowded streets, reveling in the noise and bustle. Although he could rarely see further than a few metres in from of him, he was guided by the crowd, not caring where he went as long as he was with people. If people were there, it would take his mind off... Well, he could keep busy.

His shin collided with something solid and he fell forward, sprawled across the pavement. He turned to see what he had tripped over, expecting to see a dropped handbag or even a dog, and was surprised and alarmed to see a young man crouching in the middle of the pavement, hunched over into a ball with his hands pressed over his ears.

"I'm sorry..." He began, but the man didn't seem to hear him. Patrick picked himself up and crouched before the man, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Excuse me, are you-"

The man raised his head to reveal large, mournful, brown eyes, heavily made up with eyeliner and half hidden beneath a spiky fringe. His eyeliner had run where he had been crying, leaving black smudges down his cheeks. "-alright..." Breathed Patrick.

The man before him was beautiful, even in the midst of a panic attack. Patrick took the man by the arm and pulled him to his feet. The man reached up and pulled his hood up to hide his smudged eye makeup. Patrick was surprised to see that he was not much taller than Patrick when stood up. 

Gently, he towed the man away from the centre of the crowd and to am open space in the middle of a patch of grass. Patrick spotted an unoccupied bench beneath a spreading beech tree maybe 100 yards away and steered them towards it.

The man sat beside Patrick who stared ahead of him, unsure whether he should do or say anything.

After almost five minutes, a soft voice spoke beside him. "Thank you." Patrick looked up to see the brown eyes staring penetratingly at him.

"Oh, don't worry about it."

"No, really, I can't say how grateful I am." Patrick felt his cheeks reddening.

"Do you want to... Come back to mine?" The words were out before he could stop them. He looked away, mortified, before forcing his face back towards the man beside him. "To get cleaned up, I mean. I dont know if you know, your eyeliner's run." 

The man nodded. "I know." Then he looked up at Patrick curiously. "Did you mean it when you said..."

"Yes." Now that the invitation was out there, Patrick didn't feel able to change his mind. "It's not far, maybe twenty minute's walk from here." He got to his feet and the man followed suit. As they moved towards the crowds on the pavements, Patrick noticed that he seemed hesitant to approach the tide of people.

Patrick seized his hand, again without thinking, and pulled him gently yet forcefully against the flow of the crowd.

At first the other seemed shocked by this sudden move, but he soon tightened his grip on Patrick's hand as he was led through the streets.

Outside his apartment block, Patrick stopped and released his grip on the man's hand to fish his keys from his pocket. The stranger seemed reluctant to give up his hold. 

Patrick unlocked the door and began the climb to his flat on the sixth floor.

Outside his door, he paused. "I just realised I dont know your name."

"Pete Wentz." Said the man before him, shortly.

"My name's Patrick Stump. And this," he three open the door to reveal a messy sitting room beyond, "is my home."


	2. Chapter 2

Pete stepped over the threshold and looked around with interest. He always loved seeing other people's houses. This apartment was easily twice the size of his own tiny bedsit.

Patrick closed the door and looked around, slightly embarrassed looking. "Sorry about the mess."

"Don't worry about it! It's a whole lot cleaner than I'm used to."

"Um, the bathroom is through that door, there's, uh, there's makeup wipes in the cupboard..." He blushed again.

"You dont have to feel embarrassed about wearing makeup in front of a guy who is currently wearing heavy eyeliner, you know." Pete said, raising an eyebrow in amusement. Patrick grinned awkwardly. Pete smiled and turned in the direction of the bathroom. 

He found the makeup wipes and stepped in front of the mirror. He grimaced. The smears down his cheeks were larger and more obvious than he had thought. He removed them carefully, then with a sigh he removed the rest of his makeup as well, as it was uneven where it had been washed away by his tears. Finally, feeling almost naked without his customary cosmetics, he opened the door and door and stepped back into the living room. He could see Patrick moving around in the next room, so he went and stood awkwardly in the doorway until Patrick noticed him.

Patrick turned around and jumped when he saw Pete standing there.

"Sorry..."

"No, I was just going to ask if you wanted coffee?" He phrased it like a question at the end.

"Coffee would be amazing." Admitted Pete. 

"Coming right up..." Patrick grabbed a jug of coffee and poured the black liquid into a mug for Pete before fixing one for himself. Pete took a long swig of the hot, bitter drink and swallowed with satisfaction. Patrick grabbed a bottle of milk and offered it, slightly pointlessly, to Pete, before pouring a little into his own cup.

"So whereabouts do you live?" Patrick asked, sounding interested.

"Not too far from here actually, maybe a couple of blocks at most."

"And do you live with friends or...?"

"I rent my own bedsit." Pete said. Patrick nodded. 

"That's a nice guitar." Said Pete, casting round for another topic of conversation. He didn't want to leave this flat with the small, cute, hat-wearing man who had saved him from a panic attack.

"Yeah, do you play?" Patrick sounded interested.

"Yes. Well, a bit, bass is more my thing if I'm honest."

"I've never played bass, is it very different from guitar?"

"That depends on your playing method. Are you any good?"

"I'm not bad..." Said Patrick, sounding defensive. 

"Go on, show me!" Pete gestured toward the guitar. Patrick picked it up, brushed his fingers gently across the strings, extracting a simple yet beautiful riff. Pete watched in awe.

"Do you play anything else?" He asked finally, as the last note from the guitar faded.

"I love playing the drums, but I had to leave my kit at my parents house when I moved out..." Patrick looked around sadly. "There's no room for it here. Besides, the floor and ceiling would probably let the sound through and I'd have unhappy neighbours."

"Is there anything else you can do? Do you sing or-"

"I do sing a little..." Admitted Patrick shyly.

"Really? Can you sing for me now?" Patrick looked awkward for a moment. "You don't have to." Pete amended quickly.

"Why are you so interested?" Patrick asked curiously.

"I'm starting a band and we need a backup guitarist and a lead singer. I've been singing but I prefer backup and bass to being the front man..."

"I don't know, I much prefer drums to singing..."

"We already have a drummer." Pete sounded vaguely regretful. "Well, if you change your mind, here's my number. Well, the phone in the hall anyway... Ask for Pete Wentz." He handed Patrick a piece of paper with a phone number written on it. 

He turned to leave, but then turned and faced Patrick again. "Thanks for, well, everything..." 

Patrick smiled. "No problem, man!" As the door closed behind Pete, Patrick looked down at the number in his hand. He'd wait for half an hour before calling.


End file.
